


Trending

by Musafir



Series: Carpe Diem Or Not [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bat Family, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gen, Sleep Deprivation, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 22:12:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12969513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musafir/pseuds/Musafir
Summary: “These pictures were taken late last night after the charity gala benefiting our inner city children!” Jill said brightly, “Matt, I really must say it was so adorable to see Bruce Wayne step up and really commit to his fatherly duties! It is just so heartening to see a father care for his children!”Jason let out of a scoff.xxxIn which, Gotham News reports something highly interesting after the night of a Gala at which the Wayne men were present.





	Trending

**Author's Note:**

> It snowed today and I was INSPIRED!

There was a blissfully quiet aura in the Manor that morning. The day right after they all had to pretend to be operating at a tenth of their intellect, while fighting off vapid socialites was always muted as they huddled together to cast off the hated personas. 

 

This morning, snow fell gently outside, a soft wind stirring it to fall against the long windows and pile up. The kitchen that they had all trudged towards upon waking was a warm haven, lit, but not overly brightly so, as Alfred always knew when there was a chance one or more of them might have drank more than recommended to gather the wits to carry on the night before. 

 

As it was, a hangover pill had helpfully appeared alongside Bruce’s and Jason’s coffee this morning, with Alfred pointedly placing glasses of water down next to each. Jason had grunted in thanks from where he had his head buried in his arms on the table, and Bruce had managed to make a garbled sound vaguely resembling human language as he immediately reached for the pain relief. 

 

Dick met Alfred’s eyes over the rim of his own cup, his own eyes dancing with amusement. He had had the fortune to go fairly unnoticed for most of the party. He would never tell, but he had, in fact, used Damian and his infamous temper to get away from the eagre women, all vying for his attention. He had turned them away by shamelessly citing babysitting responsibilities to his youngest brother. It had worked surprisingly well, as even with their social civilian circles, Damian Wayne was considered to be of quite an abrasive temperament.

 

Not that anyone would say so outright; if there was one commendation left for the press, it was that they did not disparage children. Dick and Jason often watched short clips of news anchors struggling to find ways to describe Damian without using negative language, to great hilarity. Even Vicky Vale had pulled up short when asked to describe the youngest Wayne, Dick had personally seen Bruce let out a small satisfied smile for that. 

 

The television hummed in the background, playing a news outlet that was doing its best to cover the Gala from the night before, the weather, and the stock market simultaneously. It was mostly background noise that went unnoticed. Dick spotted the morning paper laying on the side table and reached over for it, pulling out the comic section and sliding the rest down the table to Bruce, just as Damian walked in. 

 

They youngest Wayne also looked as if he had been put through the ringer, walking in with an already hunched defensive posture, mouth twisted into a scowl, and eyes squinting almost as much as Jason’s were, despite not having touched an ounce of liquor the night before. 

 

Alfred immediately directed him to the table and placed a glass of water before him, instructing him to down it, before sweeping back to the stove where he had been keeping breakfast warm, to prepare a plate. Bruce looked up and muttered a quiet greeting, before ducking back behind his paper, where they all generally suspected he was less reading the latest innovations in technology and science, as much as dozing off with his eyes open. 

 

Damian dropped into chair next to Dick and reached for the water. 

 

“Morning, Little D,” Dick said softly, trying to resist running a hand through the younger boy’s bed hair. Damian glared at him as if he knew exactly what Dick was thinking, and edged sideways warily. 

 

“Grayson.”

 

Alfred placed a plate piled high with Damian’s specific food requirements in front of him. It was mostly a bunch of vegan options, made delicious by Alfred, but ones the rest of them still refused to touch. 

 

Dick hadn’t been aware that quinoa had been a thing until Alfred introduced it. 

 

“All of it please, Master Damian, I am quite aware that you skipped dinner last night young man.” The Butler said mildly, holding out a fork insistently until Damian took it from his hand with a muttered thanks.

 

Alfred smiled down at him, before bustling off. The kitchen fell once again into comfortable subduedness, with the muted voices of the news reports, Alfred’s movements, and the gentle clinking of utensils hitting plates the only sounds permeating the room. 

 

Jason had managed to pull himself upright finally, the pain reliever doing its work in assuaging his headache. He took long pulls of his coffee and made a face when he realized his proximity to Bruce, but ultimately decided it was too much effort to drag himself to the other end of the table where he normally sat when at the Manor.

 

He settled for glaring alternatively at Bruce and Dick, the first of whom ignored his looks but had a pleased air about him, and the second of whom was blatantly amused at his plight. Jason passively aggressively chose to finish his breakfast rather than starting a verbal confrontation; it had been a long week. 

 

Alfred, as ever, had been the only one of them to appear completely unaffected, and was pouring the last of the coffee into Tim’s 30 oz coffee mug, which looked more like a small bowl than anything else, when the last of member of the family walked in. 

 

Or rather stumbled in. 

 

Tim was wearing a immaculate suit, as opposed to the rest of them who still donned heavy sleepwear that they had slept in. The most effort anyone in the room had made towards getting dressed would probably have been Bruce, who had made the effort to throw on a long sleeve white shirt and slacks, if it were not for the grey cashmere robe that he had thrown over the outfit. Tim did, however, emanate the barely awake vibe that had been present in the room a few minutes ago more strongly. 

 

He swayed towards the general direction of the table, eyes more shut than open, and one hand against the wall for balance. Alfred quickly waved a hand at Dick, who had made a motion to get up, and hurried towards Tim, grasping him by the upper arm and escorting him into the chair on Bruce’s left, across from Jason. 

 

Tim made a half hearted effort to smooth down his tie, smacking himself on the chest more than anything, and mumbled thanks in Alfred’s direction. The Butler walked away to retrieve Tim’s coffee, as Tim let himself slump against the chair backing and shut his eyes again. 

 

He completely missed Bruce putting down his papers to frown deeply in his direction. 

 

“Tim.” Bruce rumbled, frowning deeper when his initial frown went unnoticed. 

 

Tim cracked an eye open at the sound, looking almost surprised to see Bruce sitting there. The same surprised look persisted when he shifted his head and noticed the rest of them there.

 

“Oh.” He straightened up, lifting the back of one hand to rub it against his eyes, “Morning guys.” 

 

Jason and Damian grunted in his direction, while Dick smiled and returned his greeting. Bruce continued frowning, but didn’t say anything until Alfred returned with Tim’s coffee and placed it on the table. The cup was comically large in Tim’s small hands, but the sigh of content the little bird let out was testament enough to his happiness. Bruce waited till Tim had taken three more sips before speaking again. 

 

“Are you going to the office?” He asked somberly, eyes tracking the suit Tim wore. Tim yawned, and placed the cup back on the table. Dick noted, with amusement, that Tim needed both hands to steady it. Bruce noted the incredibly slight tremor in Tim’s hands that belayed a certain point of exhaustion. 

 

“Yeah. R&D called and said they finished the quarterly budget proposal and the….” another yawn, “Sorry, the branch manager is leaving for Tokyo tomorrow so I need to get this done today.” He said, blinking his eyes wider, trying to get them to stay open. He reached for the coffee again. 

 

“But Timmy, it's  _ sunday _ .” Dick said, looking at him mournfully.  Alfred appeared while Tim was trying to formulate a response to Dick, delicate features pulling together in distress as he automatically empathized with Dick’s emotions and tried to get his brain to work. 

 

Alfred gently pulled the cup from his hands and placed it to the side, moving the breakfast laden plate to the center. He then placed a travel mug at the center of the table closer to Jason, catching Tim’s hand when he automatically reached for it. 

 

“Breakfast first please, Master Timothy. Finish, and I will convince Master Jason to relinquish your beverage.” Alfred chided, escorting Tim’s hand back to his plate. 

 

Jason huffed in amusement, dropping his fork back onto the plate, and sat back in his chair, smirking at Tim. He ran a hand through his hair, the white tuft at his hairline falling back into place immediately as he let go, and reached out to pull the mug closer to him teasingly. Dick rolled his eyes at his side and Damian ignored them all. 

 

Tim stuck his tongue out at Jason, but obediently reached for the utensils Alfred placed at his side. 

 

“Tim, why is your assistant not taking care of this for you?” Bruce asked, still unsatisfied. “That is what they are  _ for _ .” 

 

Tim raised a weary eyebrow and reached for his water to wash down his food before replying “It  _ is  _ sunday, Bruce. I’m not going to make Tam go in, plus the weather is terrible.” He finished, nodding towards the floor to ceiling windows where the snow had piled considerably since the morning had broke. 

 

“The weather  _ is  _ terrible, Timmy. You shouldn’t be going in either,” Dick said, cutting off Bruce who was about to echo the same sentiment. 

 

Tim looked between him and Bruce, a small line appearing at the center of his forehead as his eyebrows pulled together in a moment of consternation. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could a loud jingle from the television caught their attention and they all turned to look at the mounted flat screen that had been displaying the dow jones a moment before. 

 

A picture of Bruce dressed in his tuxedo from last night was on the screen, and Alfred picked up the remote to increase the volume. 

 

“...And right before we get into the weather, how about a little story to help warm things up, huh Jill?” The overly energetic anchor said brightly.

 

“That sounds like a wonderful idea Matt! And my gosh, can I just say, when I saw these pictures my heart really did warm right up!” His equally energetic newsmate responded. 

 

Dick turned to look at Bruce questioningly, who lifted a shoulder in a half shrug before turning his attention back to the screen. 

 

“These pictures were taken late last night after the charity gala benefiting our inner city children!” Jill said brightly, “Matt, I really must say it was so adorable to see Bruce Wayne step up and really commit to his fatherly duties! It is just so heartening to see a father care for his children!” 

 

Jason let out of a scoff. 

 

“You’re absolutely right, Jill! Wayne might just be up for the Greatest Father of the year with this one!” 

 

This time all of Bruce’s children turned to look at him skeptically. The man looked back at them, perplexed. 

 

“So let me put up these pictures I know you are dying to see!” Matt said brightly, “To all the dads out there, I’ve gotta say, time to step up your game! Can we get those pictures? Ah, there! How cute is that?” 

 

The picture of Bruce looking dapper in his suit alone disappeared, along with Jill and Matt, and in its place appeared two pictures. They were both clearly of Bruce, despite having been taken in the dim lighting of the car park. In one, Bruce was looking straight at the camera, and in the other, he was looking down at the head resting on his shoulder. In both, he was possessively carrying what appeared to be a small boy in his arms, his own suit jacket thrown over the boy’s body. One arm supported the boy at the waist and the other crossed diagonally over his back; supporting his head to rest on Bruce’s shoulder. In both pictures Bruce’s face was fiercely protective. 

 

“I cannot get over these pictures of Bruce Wayne showing his daddy side!” Mark said, from a voiceover with a laugh.

 

“Ooh Mark! You might have just created a hashtag! Let's see if DaddyBruce trends by tonight!” 

 

The anchors shared a laugh, not realizing that they had broken the perfectly comfortable atmosphere within the Wayne manor. And then they took those broken pieces and set them on fire. 

 

“Damian Wayne just looks so adorably sweet here! He was probably tired, it was late and most likely past his bedtime.” Jill piped up. She might have said something else, but the occupants of the Manor were immediately distracted by a furious yell from Damian. 

 

“That is not me! Father! That is a debasement of my character! I demand you call those insufferable people and inform them of their ignorance!” Damian shouted, face red and indignant. 

 

“Wait what?” Jason said, looking between Damian and the pictures on the screen. He managed to get one last look in before they disappeared and were replaced by the weather. Jill almost looked disappointed. “Who was that then, old man?”  

 

“Bruce,  _ who _ ?” Dick asked, looking bewildered. 

 

“Father, I  _ demand- _ ...” 

 

“You picking up little boys off the street old man?” 

 

Bruce had, at some point dropped his face into his hands and was rubbing the skin between his eyes as if trying to ward off another headache. Tim was gulping down coffee like it was going out of style. 

 

“ _ Father- _ ...” 

 

“Alright!” Bruce finally said,  “Everyone calm down. Damian,  _ sit down _ . I am not calling the news station and correcting their mistake,  _ no you cannot convince me otherwise.  _ Jason, I am  _ not  _ picking up boys off the street and Dick-...” 

 

“Oh my god.” Dick suddenly stood up. He leaned over the table and grasped Tim’s chin in his hand, holding it steady despite the younger boy’s best efforts to jerk his face away. Tim let out an unhappy whine and Bruce moved forward to separate the two, but Dick let go after turning Tim’s face sideways.

 

“Oh my god,” He broke out into laughter, “That is  _ adorable _ . Aww  _ Timmy _ .” 

 

And then it clicked for the rest of the room. 

 

“Drake?!” Damian sprung up again.

 

“Wait, Babybird?...Well,  _ goddamn _ .” Jason laughed.

 

“Drake, of course it was you! How dare you trick the press into besmirching my name!” 

 

“In my defense, I don’t remember that.” Tim said, looking questioningly at Bruce, “But those were my shoes.” 

 

“Well now. That’s just crappy reporting then if you caught the mistake.” Dick said, with a straight face.

 

“Damn straight. Someone should demote Matt and Jill.” Jason said, nodding along. 

 

“Someone should  _ decapitate  _ Matt and Jill.” Damian muttered furiously. 

 

“Everyone,  _ settle _ .” Bruce growled. They all turned towards Bruce again, eyebrows raised and ready to hear the story. Even Alfred wandered closer, hands working on drying a dish, as he leaned against the counter and watched them amusedly. 

 

“There is nothing to tell-...” Bruce started, to immediate protests. 

 

“You were carrying Tim!” 

 

“Drake was in your arms!” 

 

“But,” Bruce growled loudly, “What happened, _ if you would all let me finish _ , was that I found Tim asleep against my coat in the coatroom. I have no idea what he was doing there, but I did not wish to wake him. So I carried him to the car. End of story.” 

 

There was silence for a few seconds and then Dick and Jason turned towards Tim simultaneously. 

 

“You fell asleep in the  _ coatroom _ ?” Jason asked incredulously, Dick mirroring his expression.

 

Tim looked back at them helplessly, exhausted brain trying to keep up with the events. 

 

“I...think so? I went in there about ten minutes after we got there because I left my phone in my jacket and...oh. Huh. I guess I fell asleep. That probably explains why I woke up in my own bed fully dressed.” Tim reflected. 

 

There was a dumbfounded silence. 

 

“You slept through the whole gala?!” Dick exclaimed, “Dammit Timmy, invite your favorite older brother next time won't you?” 

 

“Babybird with the narcolepsy for the win.” Jason said, shaking his head.

 

“I don't understand one thing though; you slept through the whole gala, how come you still look  _ exhausted _ ?” Dick asked, leaning forward and rubbing at Tim’s under eye dark circle with a thumb. Tim batted his hand away. 

 

“I had to get up at 2, to deal with the R&D department in Tokyo. I’ve been awake since.” Tim explained, reaching again for his coffee, now that it appeared the entire family was no longer up in arms. 

 

“Hot damn, babybird.” Jason said, leaning back in his chair to watch Tim with a smirk on his face. “Only you could fall asleep in a coatroom and not get disturbed for five entire hours.” 

 

“Thank god no one got those pictures,” Bruce muttered. 

 

Dick snorted a laugh, “Definitely, because then that would be an entirely different story; Bruce Wayne; Terrible Father, Does Not Insist Upon Bedtime.” 

 

Bruce huffed a laugh and then reached over to pull Tim’s coffee from his protesting fingers. 

 

“As it happens, the news has dubbed me the _ greatest father _ . And as the greatest father, I have decreed it that no one is going to work today. Tim, go change and hit the hay kiddo.” 

 

“But Bruce-...” Tim started to protest. Bruce cut him off. 

 

“No excuses. I’ll personally deal with the reports today. I’ve been meaning to get some paperwork done anyway. Get some sleep and then when you wake up you can review the proposals after I’m done with them.”

 

“Okay,” Tim said reluctantly. Bruce nodded at him and gave a small smile. 

 

The atmosphere in the room started to quiet down again, and probably would have fell back into its previous state had it not been for Damian. 

 

“Are we just going to do  _ nothing  _ about the fact that Drake has made it so the simple minded people of Gotham think I am a child to be carried?” He demanded, still apparently seething. 

 

Dick and Jason shared a smirk. 

 

“Trust me Demon brat, you should be thanking Tim. This has done  _ wonders  _ for your image.” Jason said with a leer. 

 

“Yeah Dami, you should see what they are saying about you now,” Dick said, waving his phone in Damian’s face. 

 

The younger boy lunged for the phone, Dick easily holding it up and keeping it out of reach. This started another wave of arguments in the room, the bickering lighthearted and amusing. Bruce and Tim shared a smile, and Alfred stood watching over them with a content look upon his face.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

The hashtag  _ DaddyBruce _ reached number one trending that night because Dick posted a picture of Tim and Bruce on a couch together, Tim’s head in Bruce’s lap as he held up a report for Bruce to read as the man reached over and pulled a blanket over Tim’s exposed feet. A fire burned merrily in the background and Damian could be seen scowling on the floor in front of it from where he was petting Titus. 


End file.
